


God of the Mountain

by Lily Lewis (LilyLewis)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blind Character, Clergy, Empires With Shitty Emperors, Fire Magic, Just A Hint of Dragons, Love at First Sight, M/M, Religion, Seer, Too Much Ancient Civs, prophet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyLewis/pseuds/Lily%20Lewis
Summary: Takes place in roughly BCE/medieval era Iberian SpainCésaire, a mysterious traveler from Carthage, arrives at the temple of the Al-Andalucían empire, and gets far more than he bargained for.Antonio is content with his position as High Priest on top of a mountain, but when a figure from his past arrives he may be forced to make difficult choices and realize that he cannot keep running from fate.Orpheus is a monk shrouded, literally and figuratively, in dark remembrances of the past, and somewhere far below, in the golden city on the banks of the river Tartessos, a blind Seer awaits the man with the voice of God.Vaguely based on actual historical things; names of places, some events, etc. mostly drawn from ancient history. Religion is much more pagan than institutional; there's really no preaching here, just love thy neighbor, and more importantly, yourself. Magic is very rare, a "gift of the gods" type of thing.





	1. Now I'm A Believer

**Author's Note:**

> Césaire, Antonio, Orpheus, and Emmanuel are original characters of mine; here I'm trying to explore who they would be in an ancient world where gods are real and there's still a hint of magic.  
> Places, clothes, food, and cultural references are largely based off of Spain, the Middle East, and North Africa. I'm Persian and Jewish myself, and trying to find the best balance between historical accuracy and fantasy. If I offend anyone, I really don't mean to, and I apologize. The religion is entirely fake, although I imagine the hymns might sound a bit like Agnus Dei ;)  
> Please see end notes for explanations of geography and clothing.
> 
> Chapter title from the Monkees song, because the one constant in the universe is that the moment Césaire sees Antonio he's completely gone head over heels.

Césaire stepped out of the forest and stared in awe at the temple.  
He had heard the bell this morning at sunrise, but he had not expected the temple to be of such grandeur; huge white marble columns rose up from the side of the mountain, the inside of the temple blocked from view by heavy curtains of white cloth which swayed lightly in the breeze, and he could see gardens planted all around, with various fruits, vegetables, and herbs. A few monks were at work in the gardens.  
"A traveler!" Césaire turned at the shout to find two young monks looking at him. At the urging of his companion, one of them ran back inside the temple, while the other stayed to welcome him.  
"Forgive us, traveler. Visitors usually come to us from the other side of the mountain." The monk bowed, and led him through the garden, and inside the temple.  
Césaire was further awed when he saw beyond the curtains. The floors of the temple were white marble as well, and it was pleasantly cool and shaded inside. Giant urns with plants growing from them stood alongside the columns, and the ceiling had a giant mosaic which stretched the length of the hallway. Césaire thought there were likely more rooms through the curtains there. He could hear faint chanting from somewhere, a soothing mantra repeated by many voices.  
"Follow me." The monk led him down the hallway, and they met a set of real doors at the end; solid metal, etched with beautiful designs of gods and legends, all the way up to the ceiling, more than ten times the height of a man.  
They looked to be so heavy that a score of men could not open them, but they swung open easily at the touch of the monk's hand.  
Inside, sitting on woven carpets with their legs crossed, he could see around a dozen monks, dressed in varying levels of fine robes- the younger, and presumably novice, monks wore simple robes of red silk or linenand small pieces of jewelry- a ring or two, usually, in their hands or ears- and their faces were unpainted, while the more senior monks had robes edged with gold thread, many golden jewels, and their faces were painted with a red ink. He could see both men and women, and people from different lands, judging by their style of dress and the color of their skin.  
"Wait here, please." The monk bowed again and left Césaire outside the doorway and went inside, past the other monks praying, somewhere he couldn't see.  
A few minutes later, the monk returned.  
"Come with me." He led Césaire past the cross-legged monks, to the very back of the temple.  
The room was huge, hung with garlands of flowers. Sweet incense filled the air with perfumed smoke.  
At the back of the temple, a giant alcove was built into the marble, and the most beautiful person Césaire had ever seen was sitting there, eyes open and looking at him but his body still in a prayer position. He'd clearly interrupted.  
"Welcome, traveler. What is your name?"  
"Césaire. I come from the land beyond the mountains."  
"Then you have made a long journey. I am the high priest of this temple. You may stay here as long as you like; this is a place of welcome. I imagine you would like to bathe, and eat. If you would permit it, I would sit and eat with you, and hear of your travels."  
"I would be honored. Thank you for your hospitality." Césaire bowed.  
The high priest smiled. He stood, quickly and easily, though he must have been sitting for hours- Césaire knew his own muscles would certainly have been stiff and cramping.  
"Please, follow me." He stepped off the dais, and led them out of the room. With a wave of his hand, several of the novice monks followed behind them.  
The high priest led Césaire back down the long hallway, but this time turned halfway, through a curtain and down another hallway. Pulling aside the curtain at the end, he revealed another large chamber, this one clearly the baths. A giant pool was built into the ground, and steam rose from it, billowing in clouds up to the decorated ceiling. Flower petals were scattered over the water, and the air was scented with their perfume.  
"Bathe. Someone will take your clothes and wash them for you; we can provide you with clean robes to wear for now, and yours will be returned once they are clean. After you have finished bathing, you will be shown to my chambers for dinner. I await your company." The high priest inclined his head, and left, all but one of the novices going with him.  
Césaire gave him his clothes, and stepped into the water, finally relaxed. The hot water felt like a balm on his travel-weary body, and he sighed with pleasure as he relaxed in the bath, sinking up to his neck. He wondered how the monks kept such a large pool of water so warm; perhaps some sort of underground fire system? There weren't any hot springs in this area, as far as he knew.  
He swam a few laps around the pool, then exited, shivering a bit in the relatively cool air. A light wind blew against the curtains of the room, and Césaire saw that the baths were facing the front edge of the temple. He walked over, pulling aside one of the curtains to look out.  
A set of steps surrounded the edge, wrapping around the front of the building. More steps led up to the front entrance, where the stone had been beautifully carved. The great bell he'd heard that morning was mounted there, just at the entrance. A path stretched from the temple, through a set of gates, and down the mountain. He thought he could just catch a glimpse of the light shining off the river Tartessos below. The jungle was beautifully lush and green, and Césaire felt a surge of lightness in his chest.  
A sudden breeze reminded him that he was revealing himself to all and sundry, and he quickly stepped back inside.  
A set of white robes, intended for civilian visitors, had been laid out for him, and he quickly used a bar of soap and a sponge to wash up, rinsing from one of the giant urns of cold water standing around the edges of the room. He dressed, and stepped out of the baths to find a novice monk waiting for him. He bowed.  
"Please, follow me." 

The high priests' chambers were very finely decorated, and as he sat on a cushion before a beautiful spread of food, Césaire couldn't help but admire him.  
He really was beautiful, his eyes so dark they looked almost black, his skin a warm brown, and his lips full and red.  
He wore only a long shendyt of red silk, painted with gold designs and slit up the sides to allow for ease of movement, but his jewelry was such that Césaire was impressed he could stand. Everything was of gold, with inlaid rubies, from his ornate belt to the chains decorating his feet and ankles to the jewels in his hair. He had intricate golden rings upon his hands and even long gold false nails on his fourth fingers, a thick collar of gold around his neck and down to his collarbones from which more chains cascaded, connecting to bands around his upper arms and wrists. A second, decorated band was around his waist, at least a handspan wide, emphasizing the long, lean lines of his body. His ears, lips, nose, brow, even his nipples were all pierced. His face, hands, and feet all had red ink designs painted on them, and in the back of his mind Césaire was praying that chastity was not among the monks' vows.  
The high priest smiled at him. "Please, eat."  
Césaire reached for the food, then paused.  
"Might I have your name? I do not know what to call you."  
"Antonio. My position does not have any titles, and you may address me as you would a friend."  
"Thank you, Antonio. I am very grateful for your warm welcome; I did not realize how tired I was from my journey until I had a chance to rest and relax."  
Finally eating, Césaire again felt the truth of his words; he had not had food this wonderful since he left home.  
"Where do you come from? We rarely have visitors from the other sides of the mountain."  
"I come from farther than that; across the White Sea, from Carthage."  
"That is indeed far. I would ask you to tell me of it, for I have never seen that city."  
"Manden Kurafaba is a grand empire; the markets are always full of traders, from home and abroad, and the food is full of heat, and the people full of joy. The present King is a great and wise man."  
"That is indeed high praise! Why have you left your bountiful city for this land, then?"  
"I wished to see more of the world. I intend to visit Hispalis, and the pillars of Mons Calpe. From there, I do not know- perhaps home or perhaps further South, to Amur Akush, how my heart takes me."  
"Hispalis is a beautiful city; I am sure you will enjoy it. My people believe the Pillars at Mons Calpe were placed by the dragons that created this world, as a gateway to the lands of heaven."  
Césaire smiled. "Mine believe that they used to be a single mountain, before a great warrior cleaved it in two with his blade."  
"You must tell me more of your tales tomorrow."  
"Tomorrow?"  
"The sun sets soon. I must go to lead the evening prayers. You are welcome to join us, if you wish."  
Césaire followed Antonio- if he were being honest, he would follow him far further than simply an evening prayer, as far as his feet would carry him- and sat on the sidelines as the monks gathered again in the prayer room.  
The great doors were both left open, and a beam of light from the setting sun shone through the opposite end of the temple to alight upon Antonio sitting on the dais. The golden light made him shine, and he stared into it, unblinking.  
The golden light traversed his body as the assembled monks sang a long, slow chant. Their voices resounded throughout the temple, as though there were a hundred men, not just the twoscore Césaire could see.  
The novices sat towards the rest of the temple, at the back of the room, away from the dais, and many had scrolls in front of them with the hymns written out, evidently still learning.  
Only one of the monks sat directly in front of Antonio, strangely with his entire head and face veiled, but clearly high ranking by his dress. Césaire thought he could hear his voice above the others, reaching the highest, angelic notes.  
He closed his eyes and simply listened, letting the music fill him up as the sun slipped below the horizon. He could not understand the words, but the tone was clear.  
As the sun finally disappeared, the great bell tolled out, and the song was over.  
Césaire did not feel as though the spell were broken, merely gently lifted, as the monks stood and went to the bedchambers to sleep. One of the novices directed him to his own room; the chambers were small, enough for a pallet, and a bit of room to lay his things. The walls were again mere draperies, but Césaire did not think the monks would be rude neighbors.


	2. I Am The Emperor, And I Want Dumplings!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which His Imperial Asshole comes over and ruins everything, Antonio is a sassmaster, Orpheus is the sane one, and Césaire is a little late on the uptake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is one of only two known quotes from Emperor Ferdinand I of Austria, and is very accurate in its demanding yet childish petulance.

Césaire slept well, and was awoken early by the sounds of life beginning anew in the temple.   
"Sir? Your clothing." A novice entered, bowing, to hand him a wrapped bundle. "Morning prayer begins soon, in the same room as last night. We break our fast after."   
"Thank you." The novice bowed, and left. Césaire was glad to dress in his own clothing again, wrapping his white, pleated linen shendyt about his hips, fixing the belt on his waist, and putting on his jewelry. He wore braces on his arms, amongst other pieces, and it felt good to have them on again.   
Morning prayers were similar to evening ones, only with the toll of the bell first. The light shone through windows in the solid walls, bathing the room in red light like that of the monks' robes from the colored glass.  
They ate in another hall- Césaire felt he would permanently be getting lost in this place, with everywhere looking the same, endless pillars of marble and white curtains- though some more senior monks stayed behind in the prayer room, clearly fasting.   
The veiled monk sat across from Césaire, like the others he ate with his hands, but lifted his veil to eat, though still not showing his face.   
"I wished to welcome you to the temple- I heard you were from Carthage?"   
"Yes. I'm passing through on my way to Hispalis, though if it is allowed I may stay here a few days. Your temple is a beautiful place."   
"It is not my temple, but thank you. I am glad we can make you feel welcome. My name is Orpheus."   
"Césaire. It's a pleasure to meet you; I enjoy hearing your voice at prayers very much."   
"Thank you. I am honored to be able to give my voice to God."   
Césaire had a question bubbling up on how tongue, and had to ask.   
"Pardon, you are the only one here to cover your face; can I ask why?"   
He could see Orpheus' eyes crinkle and he knew that he was smiling.   
"We all wear a veil of some sort when we leave the temple, but I prefer to wear one always. It is... a sense of control for me, I suppose, and I am a private person. I prefer to show people what I choose; when they see me they do not judge my face, but the person I am, without distractions. It gives me a sense of freedom, actually. It's contradictory, I know, but it's how I feel."   
"Thank you for answering. And yes, I have seen people here in all manners of dress; I admire that each one does what they are comfortable with."   
"This is a place where we strive to achieve a closeness to God; how could one feel comfortable here and bare their soul in prayer if they are not comfortable in their own skin, their own clothes?"   
Césaire nods.   
"I do not think we have the same gods, but would it be acceptable if I were to pray while I stay here as well?"   
"Of course. On your own or during the daily prayers is perfectly fine. Though our gods may go by different names and likenesses, I believe that in essence they are the same; they are all reachable through here. This is a place of acceptance for all people, a house for all gods."   
"Thank you."   
Césaire stays at the temple, each day feeling like a dream as he listens to the song of prayer, and speaks with Antonio, and admires the view from the mountain. He helps out in the gardens and the kitchen, though he is told he doesn't have to, but he wishes to repay the monks' kindness.   
It has barely been a week when one day, not even two hours after morning prayers, he is sitting with Antonio and one of the novices runs into his chambers with a look of alarm.   
"What has happened?" Antonio rises immediately, and Césaire assumes this is a rare occurrence.   
"There's a party of people coming up the road- they bear the imperial standard!"   
Antonio freezes for a second before speaking.   
"Thank you. Tell everyone who can to gather in the prayer room. Call Orpheus here, we shall speak to them when they arrive." The girl runs off, and Antonio immediately goes out to the hall, Césaire following him.   
He pulls a set of red robes out of a closet, and hands them to Césaire.   
"Please, put these on. I will mark your face; you can leave your jewelry on. I would rather not single you out to the imperial party as an outsider."   
He ducks back into his own chambers, and Césaire quickly dresses. The shendyt is of the same style he prefers, from Hout-ah Ptah, and he wonders for a minute where Antonio could have gotten such foreign clothing from when the man reappears.   
He's also changed clothes, now wearing a pair of shalvar pants slit up the sides, and veils- one from a diadem on his head, the other over his face just below his eyes, cascading down nearly to the floor. They are not completely opaque, and through them he can see glints of gold jewelry.   
"Here, you'll need this," he comes right up to Césaire, throwing a wide loop of cloth over his head.   
"Front goes over your face and is pinned behind your head, fold the back hem, fold goes along your forehead, and pin against your face." He repeats the instructions as he puts the veil on Césaire, his face so close that he doesn't dare breathe.   
"Remember how to put it on, you'll need it." Antonio runs off down the hall then, and after a second to collect himself Césaire follows. When he passes other monks, he sees that they have also thrown on veils over their faces.   
He sees that most are heading to the prayer hall, but Antonio is instead going west down the hallway, so he follows.   
Antonio goes into a different room, this one mirroring the prayer hall. Orpheus is waiting for them by a huge throne, along with a few other of the more senior monks. Antonio seats himself, and behind them Césaire hears the sound of a great slam of doors, and thinks of the huge gates of the prayer hall. It occurs to him that perhaps he should have followed the other monks.   
The bell at the entrance tolls, and he hears the sound of many boot-shod feet entering the temple.   
"Over here!" Orpheus grabs his arm and pulls him to stand beside the throne, not a moment too soon.   
A pompous looking man in rich robes enters, escorted by two monks and followed by at least a score of armed guards.   
"His imperial majesty the Emperor of Al-Andalucía!" One of the guards announces, and Césaire is more confused than ever. He could almost think that the monks were on the defensive against the emperor of their own country- this reception is certainly very different from the one he received.   
"You are welcome, your majesty," Antonio speaks and the emperor walks up to him and stares the priest in the face. "Why do you grace us with your presence?"   
"The fires in the capital burn low again. You are coming back to Hispalis with me."   
"I am needed at the temple." Antonio does not meet the emperor's eyes, instead gazing straight ahead, past him.   
"You are needed where I say you are." The emperor makes a gesture, and the guards reach for their weapons. Césaire feels his body run cold. This isn't a pilgrimage, it's a kidnapping.   
"I will need time to set things in order here. There are few of us, and we shall need at least several days to gather things for a long journey."   
"You are not taking all your devotees with you, priest."   
"I cannot travel alone."   
"Two, then. Him, and him." The emperor points out Orpheus and Césaire, who are just to his left. "You have two hours, and then we leave. You see, I am not without mercy." He smiles in a way that Césaire really does not like.   
"Thank you. We shall not waste that time, then." Antonio stands and moves past the emperor when the latter grabs his arm.   
He leans in, but Césaire can still hear him.   
"I've missed you, Antonio." He releases his arm and Antonio walks quickly past him, motioning for the rest of the monks to follow. The guards let Orpheus and Césaire through, but block the others' path with their weapons. The threat isn't subtle at all, and it puts a bad taste in Césaire's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for kudos and comments! Was this a terrible attempt at a cliffhanger or what?   
> Poor Césaire, he just wants to hang out with the cute guy, he didn't sign up for this ("I'll just stay a few days" he says, and proceeds to stay forever lol)   
> Sorry not sorry for the gratuitous use of veils in this chapter   
> Also everything I know about them is from YouTube videos by Niquabi girls (I especially love Fynn Jamal!) so hopefully that's not too far off. In this universe, it's not a modesty thing so much as a 'choosing who gets to see you' thing; Antonio is pulling out the full body coverage because the less the Emperor sees of him, the better.   
> Also I really love the whole 'I really want to kiss you but I can't'/'falling in love with someone even though you can only see their eyes' thing, sue me  
> Pretty much everyone is shirtless except the emperor and Orpheus because I said so and shirts are for fools, you're welcome   
> As for the emperor, I imagine that he dresses like a mix of a matador and a 17th century Spanish king, in case anyone cares   
> And yes he's a creep, we don't like him. It takes a real coward to march up a mountain with an army to threaten a couple monks into making a state visit. God is doing a sarcastic slow clap. 
> 
> Next chapter is from Antonio's point of view!


	3. Are We There Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Antonio sits in his room for two days and does a magic trick, Orpheus is the best bro, and Césaire has lots of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took pity and gave them tea.

Antonio turns, and sees the emperor smile, sending a shiver of disgust up his spine.  
"Just making sure. Two hours!"  
Antonio does not answer, but turns again and leads the way to the monks' chambers. As they go down the main hallway, he sees to his relief that there is a giant red tapestry pulled over the false marble wall, behind which is the door to the opposite hall. If one did not know there was another chamber, they would never be able to tell.  
"What is going on?" Césaire asks him.  
"We have two hours. Grab your essentials, leave behind anything that looks like it would not belong to a monk. Fear not, the emperor's men shall not stay, and your things shall be safe with my people. After that, come to my chambers, I'll provide you with more clothes." He turns to look at the traveler. "I wish you had not followed me, but what's done is done. I fear you shall indeed see Hispalis, though perhaps sooner than you would have liked."  
Thankfully, Césaire nods, and disappears to the room he had been sleeping in.  
Antonio turns to his other friend. "You should pack too. Are the others safe?"  
"Everyone made it inside the prayer hall who was supposed to. Excepting Césaire, obviously."  
"I did not think he would follow me." Orpheus is about to reply when Antonio cuts him off. "We can talk later. There isn't time to waste."  
They split up, and Antonio goes to his own set of rooms, the only other place besides the prayer hall that has doors in the temple.  
He feels a childish urge to hide in his room, but he knows better. The emperor would not hesitate to kill his men and drag him out, and it would be cowardice, besides.  
He shoves several sets of shendyts and shalvars and veils in his travel bags, along with jewelry and his weapons. He then goes to the spare closet, and pulls out things for Césaire to wear as well, and laments that his new friend is coming with him. He had grown fond of the man through their talks, and hated to bring him into danger. More than that, he hated that a man whose opinion he valued would see him at the mercy of the emperor's whims.  
He finished packing things, and dumped the bags on Césaire and Orpheus before going to bless the temple for his absence.  
They should be able to keep the kitchen fires going, but the baths would be cold within a few hours of his leaving. He sighed, and went to the west hall where everyone was waiting for him.  
"Ready? Then we leave!" The guards released the rest of the monks, and herded Antonio and his companions out the door.  
Two large lacquer-painted palanquins sat outside, under further guard, and Antonio estimates the Emperor's men to number twoscore. They make to split the monks up, but Antonio grabs his friends and shoves the three of them together into one of the palanquins, and hears the emperor take the other. There is a jolt as they are lifted, and then they are off.  
The palanquin is very fine, with enough room for the three of them to sleep at night, though close to each other. The windows and doors are covered with shutters and curtains, and the floor is decorated with many pillows and blankets. They will not be uncomfortable during their travels.  
"We're about thirty-five leagues from Hispalis," Antonio said. "It will take at least two days to get there, so make yourselves comfortable." He lowers his tone. "Speak quietly, and we will not be heard."  
"I have many questions," Césaire says and Antonio nods.  
"I expect you do. Hand over that teapot." Césaire looks behind him, and finds a large kettle, full of water, along with a full set of cups and teas.  
"Here."  
"Excellent."  
"How will you-" Antonio doesn't bother to answer, placing his hands on the pot. Within a minute, the water is boiling.  
Césaire stares. Orpheus pushes forward three cups with full tea strainers and Antonio pours.  
"There's more to being a high priest than just prayers," he tells Césaire, who is still staring, eyes wide. "I have dragonfire within me, from the very first dragons who created the world. When I am at the temple, the baths have heat, the fires in the kitchens never go out. There is no enemy that could threaten us that I could not keep at bay."  
"So that's what the emperor meant when he said that the fires of Hispalis are going out. If they need you, though, why are you so reluctant? Forgive me, but surely a whole city takes precedence over one temple."  
"If the emperor were worthy of his throne, he would not need me." There is more than a touch of anger in Antonio's voice. "He claims a kingdom he has not the power to provide for, so he decides to drag the high priest about and make me do his duty for him." Antonio unclasps the chain that holds the veil over his face, and drinks his tea.  
"Does this happen a lot, then?" Césaire follows suit, unpinning his veil as well. Orpheus keeps his on, lifting the veil with one hand to drink.  
"No. I used to live at the palace. I left some years ago, and have not come back. It seems this has displeased his majesty."  
"What is between you two? Where I come from, no man could behave to a ruler this way and live."  
"I am the highest clergy member of his people's religion, I am allowed a certain level of impertinence. However, it is more that we are in a standoff of power; he cannot execute me, I cannot hurt him or his men for the threat on my temple. And such an action would violate my vows."  
"Your vows?"  
"Yes. Speaking of which, you should take them." Antonio takes Césaire's hands in his. They are large, strong, and wonderfully dark skinned. "This is not permanent- for one, you are not taking them at the temple, and I shall release you upon our return, but it will suffice for now. I cannot have you going about as one of us without. And it is not safe to be other than one of my order now, I am afraid, for the emperor and his guards will not extend the same courtesy to a stranger as to a monk."  
"I agree. From what I have seen, the vows of your order seem to be fair ones. Though I confess I walk under the blessing of different gods."  
"That is no obstacle. All gods are alike, and all are welcome. Repeat after me;  
"I shall not act in violence against any one who has not done so to me.  
I shall commit no moral wrong.  
I shall always give my aid to those in need.  
I pledge my body in service to my god and my soul to him in the afterlife."  
Césaire repeats the vows, and Antonio feels a spark as they are accepted.  
"I'm afraid I have one more question."  
"Yes?" Antonio smiles.  
"You told the emperor that the monks were few in number, and I saw everyone go to the prayer hall- what was that about?"  
"We. You are one of us now." Antonio corrected him. "I believe it is prudent not to let on how many of my order are at the temple. If we seem few in number, we are no threat. You saw the doors to the hall of prayers; they are on a set of hydraulics, as is a great slab of marble which moves to hide them from view. When they are closed and the mechanism is activated, a hundred men could not move them, if they even saw through the disguise. If we were to be attacked, or the emperor decided to take me back by force, everyone in there would be safe. There is food and water there as well, enough to last a while. It is almost never used, however. I'm thankful for that, of course, but I confess I was worried if they would be able to close them in time."  
"Does that not require heat? How will they open them again?" Antonio nods, impressed at Césaire's knowledge of the technology.  
"There should be enough residual power to get them open soon after we left. And it is not as though over twoscore of monks cannot figure out how to boil water, anyways. However I do not believe they will be able to engage the system more that once without me; they shall have to keep the doors open permanently until I return."  
"It's incredible, that you power all these mechanics within the temple."  
Antonio shrugged.  
"I am used to it; it is not as though I feel any strain. It is a gift of the gods; I am glad to give it in service to their temple."  
They didn't talk much after that, Césaire seeming to run out of questions for the time being. Eventually, they emptied the pot of tea, and Antonio led a quick evening prayer at sunset. It was not a song, like in the temple, but a mantra for safe travels, to be repeated as the sun went down.  
The palanquins were set down to rest for the night, and Antonio found he missed the soothing swaying of movement. The emperor nauseated him, but he did love Hispalis.  
They were invited to dinner, but he did not accept, knowing food would taste like ash if he had to behold the emperor's face while he ate.  
The three monks went to bed instead, still within the palanquin.  
In the dark, Antonio reached out a hand, and grabbed hold of Orpheus'. His friend squeezed his hand back in a gesture of comfort, but Antonio did not let go until they had fallen asleep.  
SC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I read the Wikipedia article on hydraulics ten times and it still sounds like nonsense because trying to figure out how technology worked thousands of years ago is HARD.  
> The main idea is that heated water causes steam buildup, and hot air expands, creating pressure, moving things, including doors. If you've ever seen a lid move on a pot of boiling water you know what I mean. The idea here is that the metal doors are actually moved by steam every time one wishes to open them- the system was invented by Heron of Alixandria, one of the greatest inventors of his time. A fire is lit, which heats the air in a large vessel filled with water underground. The increased pressure pushes the water into another jar, attached to a chain. As the weight increases, it pulls on a system of weights and pulleys which turn the doors on their axis. I imagine here that a touch by a monk would trigger the flames, though Antonio could make the doors open purely by his own will since he's the one who can actually control fire. The fires are kept burning by Antonio's presence. Without him, everything cools down, though his blessings provide enough residual energy to open the doors after he's gone. The marble slab normally rests inside the wall, and again can be moved by a hydraulic system; when the room is sealed off and he cuts the heat to the fire (while the emperor is there) the doors would have to be moved by hand which, considering their weight, is pretty much impossible. I'm not an engineer though, so please forgive me if I've made any mistakes here. 
> 
> The essence of the conflict is that the Emperor should have similar, if not greater, power to keep Hispalis going- however, he doesn't. In a city that, through its leader, could have access to unlimited steam power, this is a pretty big deficiency. However, it isn't Antonio's responsibility to clean up the Emperor's mess if the gods consider him unworthy of divine power. Antonio is basically the equivalent of the Pope in the Middle Ages here; he has a lot of power with the people despite not actually having legal authority over the government. The emperor can't execute him, but he can't really denounce the emperor, so they both just get really cranky at each other. (This emperor is no Henry VIII) 
> 
> A league is about 3 miles; a nautical league is a bit more, about 3.6 miles I think. A party on horseback could do about 10-20 leagues a day. It would take 10-12 people to carry a large palanquin, and with forty soldiers (one score is 20 people) there's more than enough to carry the palanquins from the mountains down to Hispalis (I actually google mapped how many miles it is from Seville to the mountains near Córdoba in Spain) with them taking turns. In reality it would take longer than two days- the Roman army could do a bit over 20 miles (7 leagues) a day at a loaded march on foot and up to 30 miles (10 leagues) a day. I've sped it up however to limit torture on the characters ^^ 
> 
> I don't know how to write religious vows and I'm sorry, I couldn't find actual word for word religious vows anywhere, just general principles. I tried to keep these to "be a good person" as opposed to a set of, shall we say, outdated rules. When I equivocate religions I basically just mean that in this world where the pagan gods are very much present in people's everyday lives, one god of war/peace/love/wisdom/the sun/etc. is pretty much the same as another; a divine being controlling a specific set of natural phenomena. They may go by different names and attributes depending on place, but it's the same divine presence; Ra, Apollo, and Helios would pretty much be the same guy, or different incarnations of the same person here. 
> 
> Fun question: I wonder what the emperor did there for two hours? Do you think he just walked around staring at the wall carvings? Or maybe he played I Spy with the guards or something, we'll never know.
> 
> I'm definitely implying that the emperor made some unwanted advances, but I think Antonio's main problem would be the power balance and being beholden to someone so much less than him. He likes control, and it really ticks him off that he mostly has to do whatever the emperor says. It's why he fucked off to the mountains in the first place. Having Césaire- someone he does care about- around to witness all this is just humiliating.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts and receive your kudos! 
> 
> Clothing:  
> A shendyt is a type of skirt/kilt. The Egyptian style favored by Césaire would be similar to the Wikipedia picture; Antonio's style would look more Grecian/Middle Eastern, I imagine.  
> The red ink is henna, a plant-based dye used in India and the Middle East which turns dark brown or red, and is usually worn on the hands and feet.  
> Shalvar pants are a Middle Eastern style of pants that are very wide on the legs and tight around the ankles; think harem pants, but less 'boho chic hipster' and more 'Middle Eastern monk' .  
> For a general image of Antonio, think belly dancer but more jewelry; Césaire is more of 'tall buff Egyptian god figure' if that makes sense. Jewelry is jewelry. Shoes are for fools. 
> 
> Geography:  
> Al-Andalucía: based off of and located in the southern Spanish region of Andalusia, in the Iberian peninsula. The capitol is Hispalis (Seville), which is on the banks of the river Tartessos (Guadalquivir).  
> The empire of Manden Kurufaba is based off of the ancient Mali empire, though I've made it quite a bit larger from Niani on the West coast of Africa to Carthage, on the Northeastern coast.  
> Amur Akush is Marrakesh.  
> The White Sea is the Mediterranean Sea.  
> Hout-ah Ptah is Ancient Egypt.  
> Mons Calpis is the Strait of Gibraltar/pillars of Hercules. The legends described come from Greek mythology (Césaire) about Hercules smashing apart a mountain, and I swear I didn't make up Antonio's version but I can't find where I got it anywhere. The pillars were often considered to be the limit of the ancient world; a gateway to Atlantis, or monsters, or mystical knowledge, however. Some ancient historians also claimed that the pillars were deliberately placed by Hercules. 
> 
>  
> 
> All place names are actual historical names of these places; I spend too much time on Wikipedia looking this stuff up, but I believe it helps the suspension of disbelief and is somewhat more accurate to use historical names than modern ones. However there is little consistency as to the eras, unfortunately. I'm trying to be slightly accurate with clothing as well, but also I want everyone to look really pretty. Sue me.  
> If ye dare to brave the ocean of Wikipedian knowledge, sailor, beware; here be spoilerous monsters!


End file.
